Blood Will Tell
by zelofheda-B
Summary: When Much and Guy get whisked away to the castle of two "sorcerers," they discover something disturbing.


Title: Blood Will Tell

Author: Zelofheda-B

Rating: K+

Summary: When Much and Guy are accidentally whisked to the castle of two 'sorcerers', they discover something disturbing.

Disclaimer: The series Robin Hood and all recognizable characters and situations belong to BBC and Tiger Aspect.

All comments welcome, especially constructive criticism.

xxxxx

A fine powdery snow had fallen on Nottingham two days before, but then temperatures had plummeted. Much had been loath to leave the fire in the outlaws' camp, even for the warm feeling of doing something guaranteed to enrage the Sheriff; distributing food, coins, and firewood to Nottingham's poor. Finished for that night, he and Robin headed for the market square, but they'd barely joined the others when there was a shout of "Outlaws!" Every door of every nearby house burst open to reveal guards with crossbows. A trap!

"Scatter!" Robin yelled, and Much sprinted down a tiny alley between two houses. He heard footsteps behind him, and hoped it was Robin. The alley gave way to a street, and Much raced to the left, stumbling on the uneven ground as a bolt whizzed overhead. Staggering, Much tried to regain his pace, but slipped on an icy patch. He went down on hands and knees, and someone crashed into him. Shoving the man away, Much leaped up and ran.

The impact spun him around and sent him sprawling to the street. Along with the agony, Much could feel the tip of the bolt in the bone of his arm. He'd never thought that such a wound could be instantly fatal, but suddenly, there was light around him, so bright that Much thought he must be ascending to heaven through the sun itself. He could see two forms nearby, and assumed they were angels, until he realized that one was wearing black leather. Gisborne. Perhaps Robin had killed him, and they were both dead, except – shouldn't Gisborne be headed _down_?

Gisborne stood motionless, his sword extended, and Much looked at the other man in the light. He saw blond hair, strange clothes, and a hand feeling for a large amulet. Then the light disappeared and Much felt himself falling. He cried out in fear as the light came back and the falling sensation ceased.

Gisborne had shouted, too, and had pulled his sword up defensively. Everything around them had changed. In the place of buildings and streets were walls, ceiling, and floor, all in shades of yellow. There was light, but no windows or fire, and Much recognized a desk on the other side of the room. It was also warm, and Much's face tingled.

As the strange man ran away from them to the desk, Gisborne recovered enough to follow, jabbing his sword at the man's neck and demanding, "Who are you? What witchcraft have you done with us?"

The man pressed his fingers to the desk, but Gisborne increased the pressure of his sword, and the man froze. He spoke, but Much could not understand his words.

"Are we in hell?" Much sat up, hissing at the pain. "It's warm here, but I thought it would be, you know, hotter."

"Shut up!" Gisborne scowled at him, then looked back at the man, who had opened a drawer and grabbed something. He showed them a flat, metallic box, then spoke again, and a voice came out of the box. "Can you understand me now?"

Much and Gisborne both jumped, and Gisborne twitched his sword towards the box, then returned it to the man's neck. Gulping, the man tried again.

The voice said, "Lower your weapon and we'll talk."

Gisborne repeated, "Who are you and what witchcraft have you done with us!"

The voice in the box spoke to the man and he replied. Then the voice said, "It's not witchcraft—"

A door slid open and a woman burst in, pointing a small object at Gisborne. There was a sound like a bumblebee, and Gisborne crumpled bonelessly to the floor. Much gasped, and the woman turned to point the strange thing at him. Much babbled, "Don't kill me! Although – can you kill me if I'm already dead? I'm sure I don't know what I did to deserve being sent to the same hell as Gisborne. If you're the devil and his minion, and we're both dead, then I have to tell you, there's been some mistake! _I _am Much, and _he_ is Guy of Gisborne!"

"He's not dead, he's asleep," the voice said. The man came over and crouched down next to him, speaking to the box, which relayed his words. "Your name is Much?"

Much could see that the box had a tiny window of oddly-coloured glass. Surely there must be a fairy speaking from inside! He craned his head to catch a glimpse of it, and cried, "Yes! Who are you?"

The fairy spoke to the man, then said, "My name is Alexander."

"Can I see you?" Much asked, leaning closer. "Come to the window, show yourself. I've never seen a fairy before."

Smiling, the man spoke to the fairy, and the fairy spoke to Much. "This man is Alexander, and this woman is Elizabeth. This … fairy … speaks your language for us."

"Can I see him?" Much asked, "What's his name?"

Alexander and Elizabeth exchanged amused looks, and Elizabeth said, "His name is Tek-no-lo-jee, and he's very shy, he never lets us see him."

"Ah." Much nodded.

"You're not in heaven or hell," Alexander said. "You're not dead."

"I didn't think it could be heaven if Gisborne were here," Much said. "But where am I? How did I get here?"

"You are in our … " Alexander hesitated. Elizabeth said, "Castle. You got here by magic."

"You're sorcerors," Much guessed.

Alexander grimaced. "We're medical researchers travelling through time and space --"

Elizabeth said, "We're good sorcerers. But we don't know all the magic in the world, and we want to learn more … spells … that will help us banish certain sicknesses. You could help us."

"Me?" Much asked. "But how? I don't know anything about magic. I wish I did – like how to put Gisborne to sleep like that. A trick like that could be very useful."

"We'd only need a little of your blood," Elizabeth said. "And his."

"I've got plenty of blood." Much indicated his arm. "If you can get this out, you can take what you like."

Elizabeth smiled. "We'll heal your arm – as a thank you in advance."

Alexander went out of the room and returned with a bag. Elizabeth took a piece of metal and pressed it against Much's neck. His arm went numb immediately, then his head, and the next thing Much knew, he was lying flat on his back, feeling sick.

Elizabeth supported his head and helped him sip a sweet liquid. He felt better instantly, and sat up, looking at his arm. The bolt was gone, and though there was still a tear in his shirt, there was no wound underneath.

"It's really healed!" Much exclaimed, turning and flexing his arm. Gisborne was awake now, too. Much flashed him a nasty gesture, and Gisborne sneered back.

"Yes, it's healed," Alexander said. "And we've got what we needed. We can send you and your brother back home now, with our thanks."

"He's not my brother!" Much and Gisborne protested simultaneously.

"You both have the same father," Alexander said. "We can tell from your blood."

As Elizabeth flapped her hands in urgent chagrin, Much stared at Gisborne, hoping it wasn't true. The problem was, it certainly wasn't impossible.

Gisborne was audibly horrified. "You can tell that from our blood?"

"Yes," Alexander admitted. Elizabeth added, "And a bit of magic."

"Right," Alexander announced. "Time to go home. Step over to that circle there, and we'll send you back."

"Can you give me that magic thing that will make people sleep?" Much asked, imitating how Elizabeth had pointed it at them. Gisborne reached menacingly for his sword, but also shot Elizabeth a wary glance. Elizabeth shook her head. "That magic is only for advanced sorcerers."

Shrugging, Much stepped into the circle with Gisborne following. It would be good to get back to camp, even without any magic. Robin would already have noticed him missing, and be planning a needless rescue.

The walls of the castle dimmed, and Nottingham replaced them. Before Much could run, however, Gisborne grabbed his cloak, pulling him close to his face. Much endured his glare, waiting for the blow, but then he gave Much an unexpected push and strolled off.

Much walked away, too, but after a few steps, he stopped and looked back. Gisborne had stopped as well, and they regarded each other across the short, invincible distance. For a moment, Much saw loneliness, longing and regret on Gisborne's face, then watched as Gisborne replaced the expression with a weak imitation of his normal sneer.

Turning away, Much wondered what it would have been like if they'd always known. He'd found the next best thing to a brother in Robin, long ago, but Gisborne, despite obviously having wished for one, had found neither brother nor friend. Well, too late now. Better to go back to the forest, forget all about it, and pretend there was another reason why Gisborne hadn't killed him then and there.


End file.
